


Vacancy for One(old)

by BanhTM



Series: Mizuhiki Cy/Cy [6]
Category: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, Two brain cells, plot? what plot, vitriolic duo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26017567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BanhTM/pseuds/BanhTM
Summary: A freak snowstorm traps Cynthia inside an inn in the corner of Unova. Fortunately, there's still vacancy. Unfortunately, there's only one bed. To make matters worse, she's forced to share it with HIM.
Series: Mizuhiki Cy/Cy [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2148375
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	1. Check In

The snowstorm comes out of nowhere. One second the sky is clear, and the next the whole world is blanketed in white.

Cynthia pounds against the wooden door. "Let me in! LET ME IIIIIN!"

The door swings open, and Cynthia falls inwards. Ah. Wonderful warmth beats down her snow-drenched back. She flashes a big grin to the person who so kindly opened the door—

And her mirth instantly dies. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

"I could ask the same of you," Cyrus growls. Cynthia whacks her wet hair into his frost-covered suit.

A big man in a cowboy hat ambles down the stairs. "Now hold y'alls Zebstrikas." He has a thick accent that requires some time to decipher. "You two picked the wrong day to go honeymoonin'."

Never in her life has Cynthia felt so insulted. She stomps on Cyrus's dress shoes, shoves him aside, and jabs a finger at the whistling cowboy. "I'm the Champion of Sinnoh! That man is not my—"

"Name's Clay, and I'm the owner of this here inn. We only got one room left."

Cynthia slams a handful of Poke on the counter. "I'll take it."

Cyrus storms over. "What about me? _I_ was about to rent that room when _you_ knocked on the door!'

She shrugs. "Go find a broom closet or something. I'm sure you can squeeze yourself into a hole somewhere."

Clay is about to reach for the glittering Poke when Cyrus slaps down some more money. Cynthia's nostrils flare. Her counterpart's eyes narrow like icy blades.

"Here's the key." The two adults lunge for it, only for Clay to yank it away. Snickering, he gestures towards the stairs.

"Why are you so close?" Cynthia hisses.

"This is a narrow space," is the cold response. "If you disagree with my presence, kindly move ahead."

Clay leads them to a door at the end of the hallway. There are tears in his eyes, but he swallows down his laughter and musters a straight face. "Well. We got breakfast tomorrow. Y'all lovebirds have a good night."

"We are NOT together! I _hate_ him!"

"I am not particularly fond of her either."

"Then stay out!" Cynthia slams the door in his face.

The door creaks open. "Bobby pins are very versatile things." Cyrus pockets said makeshift key. He brushes past an exasperated Cynthia, striding into the cozy room with his hands clasped behind his back.

It's taking all the self-control she has not to sic him with Draco Meteor. Cyrus turns. "Why are you wearing your shoes inside? Leave them over there, next to mine."

"I can do whatever the hell I want." Cynthia jumps on the bed with her heels, reveling at how the veins throb across his furrowed brow. "Okay, so I get this side of the room. You get whatever's left."

"Which isn't much. I only have this pathetic square of floor."

"Fine. It's a rectangle now."

Cyrus exhales sharply. "Champion Cynthia, I don't have time for this…"

"I gave you an electrical outlet. What more do you want?" Cynthia tosses her wet fur coat over her vast territory. The room has a nice cabana theme, dark wood against the hellish white landscape outside.

Cyrus steps over the arbitrary boundary line. Cynthia blocks his path. "I am going to adjust the thermostat," he says slowly, as if regurgitating information to a child.

"It's already so hot in here!" she yells. "Besides, the thermostat is on my side of the room. Go back to your corner!"

"Tch. This was a mistake."

"Huh. Tell me about it."

* * *

Nighttime. Cynthia crawls under the soft, toasty blankets. She turns off the lights and goes to sleep.

Not five seconds later, and she tosses her covers aside. "What?" she hisses. "Stop staring at me!"

Cyrus's eyes narrow. "Can't I at least have a pillow? I doubt you'll use all six." Cynthia hurls a shower towel at his face. "You have two duvets! You could at least spare another blanket! Champion!"

Cynthia had put in ear plugs and is snoring away. The snowstorm is howling outside wooden walls. A disgruntled Cyrus folds his blazer into a makeshift pillow and pulls the towel over his head. He passes out not long after.


	2. Day 2

Snow is still falling when Cyrus slips out the door and stumbles down the corridor. All is quiet and serene in the pale morning light.

The communal bathroom is empty. After a quick shower with hot water, Cyrus checks that the coast is clear before tentatively opening the stall door.

"You got kicked out?"

Cyrus slams the door. Very, very slowly he shuffles out, head down, his fluffy hair shielding his face from that of the large, curvaceous woman on his right.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"It's a unisex restroom, so you're good." Her laugh is deep and hearty. "Name's Lenora. I run this shanty shack with my friend Clay. When did you check in?"

"Yesterday." The last thing Cyrus wants is to make small talk while he's half-naked. He fully immerses himself in brushing his teeth, silently praying that she'll get the hint and leave.

She doesn't. Lenora makes no effort to hide her staring. _"Damn_ son. And I thought _Juniper's_ got killer calves."

He should've never opened that door.

* * *

Clay leads a starving Cynthia into the mess hall, a blessed area of wonderful smells and colors.

"You ain't ever had good food 'til you try Unovan brunch!" he booms. "We got tater tots, French toast, steak, chicken waffles, and all the bacon you want!"

"I can spend an eternity here," Cynthia sighs.

"Missy, this is the only inn that has a buffet! We even got local soda, courtesy of Burgh!"

With that, Cynthia drifts away to fill her plate. There are lines for almost every item, even though it's this late into the morning. A lot of suckers must've been pushed here due to the sudden snowstorm.

Cynthia finds the only empty seat in the crowd. "Is this taken?"

"No," replies a deep drone from behind a newspaper. "Please go ahead—"

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

Cyrus slaps his newspaper down. "This is a communal dining space. I have all the right to solicit here… Plus, I paid for the room."

Cynthia rolls her eyes. "I can't eat with you staring at me with that freaky face of yours!"

A shadow passes through his stony features. "You have feet, correct? Kindly find someplace else then."

"One of us will have to leave, and it's not me."

With that, Cynthia nosily begins to eat. Cyrus pinches his temples. He takes his lone coffee cup and stands. "Enjoy," he says with nothing in his voice.

"Thanks," she replies flatly. He begins to leave until his gaze catches on the glistening oil of her medium-rare steak. His stomach churns uneasily.

"Are you really going to finish all that?" Cyrus says.

Cynthia slams her fork down, startling the nearby families. "You did _not_ just call me fat. Didn't your parents teach you manners?"

"They… Tch. I would never disparage you—"

"There is going to be a major food fight if you don't mind your own damn business."

Cyrus glowers at the hash brown brandished at his throat. "Very well. I will vacant the premise so you can enjoy your brunch. Don't waste food, Champion."

* * *

Cynthia and Cyrus avoid each other like the plague for the rest of the day. If they do meet, sparks fly, and one of them is kicked out of the room. It's never Cynthia.

"So you're the Champion of Sinnoh?" Clay is saying. "Do they get younger each year? Heh, we got a lil' miss named Iris who's eyein' Alder's spot right now. I reckon she'll become the next Champion of Unova soon!"

Cynthia chuckles. "I've met Alder. A little eccentric, but a very nice person! In fact, I was coming back from the World Champion Meeting when I got stuck in this damned snow."

Clay snorts. "That's just the darnest of luck. Ginger ale?"

"Does this contain alcohol?'

"I won't be no inn proprietor if I don't stock on booze."

The beer can opens with a refreshing hiss. She joins cans with Clay and takes a long, blissful sip. Aaah. Nothing like an unladylike belch to temporarily calm her screaming nerves.

Then Clay leans in all smug-like. "Soooo… you two got history together?"

The beer turns sour in her mouth. "Goddammit I _told_ you there's nothing but spite and hatred between us! All that _freak_ ever does is stare out the windows with his hands behind his back like a pompous librarian!"

"Har har… You _would_ know, lass. I guess opposites really _do_ attract!"

Cynthia is _this_ close to decking the old man with his cowboy hat. But Champions can't go around slapping people… even though they rightfully deserve it. Cyrus is an exception though.

Her troubles only worsen when that stupid spiky blue head enters the foyer. Cyrus hasn't seen her yet, thank Arceus. He lifts open those blue recycling bins, his brows rising as he pokes his head into the rubbish.

Clay pretends to mind his business while Cynthia storms over to her roommate. She crosses her arms. Taps her feet. Cyrus is too immersed in sifting through trash to notice the daggers carving holes into his back.

So Cynthia grabs a handful of collar. "What the _hell_ are you doing _now?!"_

"Lenora gave me permission to search through the recyclables," he growls back.

_"What? Why?"_

"I require the proper materials to build… You know what? You don't even care." Cyrus swiftly turns away. "I am going back to _my_ room."

 _"Your_ room? You don't own _squat_ in there to claim it as _your_ room! Hey! Don't walk away from me, sonova…"

Lenora joins Clay to watch the young couple fight over who will go up the stairs first. Once the vitriolic duo turns the corner, Clay lets rip all his suppressed laughter. "L-Lenora!" Tears are spilling down his eyes. "This is the best damn stand-up comedy I ever saw since Brycen got stuck in Burgh's honey walls."

Lenora snickers. "All in due time, Clay. All in due time…"

* * *

The sky is darkening. When it gets dark, it gets _very_ dark. Cynthia dials up the lights and lowers the thermostat.

"All it takes is two seconds of your time to turn up the heat," Cyrus grunts from his corner. Earlier in the day, Cynthia had gotten colorful duct tape to properly divide the room. With the established lines, this grownass man looks like a toddler in the time-out corner.

Cynthia flips him off. She turns on the TV, leaves it on the cooking channel, and absently leafs through the faded tourist pamphlets. _Castelia City, the City of Grandeur… Nimbasa City, Lit by the Flash of Lightning…_ _Undella Town, the Town of Rippling Waves…_

_Click. Click._ Cyrus is tinkering with a handful of trash he'd salvaged from recyclables. Parts that don't fit and will never fit clicks together with the magic spell of his long, nimble fingers.

With a start, Cynthia realizes that she's been staring at this loser as if… Gross! But he doesn't seem to notice that. His eyes are fixed on his contraption while his big ears are tuned in to the television.

"Root beer?" he echoes to the floor. "Chicken fried steak? Fried mayonnaise? Do Unovans really eat this stuff every day?"

Cynthia nonchalantly blows a strand of stray hair from her nose. "I hear there's such a thing as processed cheese in a can. You spread it on stuff like you do with pressurized whipped cream."

"Really?"

"Yeah. There's also string cheese too. Alder gave me some the last time I visited Unova."

Cyrus has this very odd look on his face, a cross between fear and indigestion. "What are you doing?" Cynthia says with feigned disinterest.

"None of your business."

"Um. _Rude."_ She blows him a raspberry. "Screw you and your loudass snoring."

Cyrus frowns. "I do not snore. _Your_ snoring kept me up all night!"

Cynthia sits up. "Excuse me? _My_ snoring? _You_ sound like a Mamoswine during hibernation! I thought there was an earthquake in here!"

An Icy Wind of spite tears through the insulated room. Nightfall taps against the frosted glass, and Cynthia says, "Fine. I'll prove it to you, right here, right now!"

* * *

In the dark of the night, Cyrus rests his head on his folded suit and brings the bath towel over his nose. He glowers at Cynthia, who leers back from the warm, soft covers of her bed.

"I know you're tired," she coos. "Go to sleep."

"I drank six-seven-eight cups of black coffee," he hums. "The heavy food from brunch is still sitting in your stomach. Rest and digest, Champion Cynthia."

Then Cynthia begins to sing. She sings a warm, olden lullaby from her hometown. The harmonic quality of her silken voice taps into Cyrus's visceral organs. A phantasmal hand presses over his fluttering eyelids, and his breathing grows deeper.

But then Cyrus retaliates with a low, whistling melody. The deep timbre of his voice resonates from his vibrating Adam's apple to the dark wooden walls, creating a relaxing ambiance for reading by candlelight in a rainy night.

That sneaky bastard almost had her. Almost.

So Cynthia grabs a random pocket watch from the cabinet. "You are feeling very sleepy…" she purrs in a velvety smooth voice. It's so slick that the words simply slip from her tongue. "Your weary eyes grow heavy with the weight of silence…" She transitions to slow, deliberate whispers. "You slave away day and night, Cyrus… You deserve a good night's rest… The sun doesn't need to shine all day…"

"Chhkt…"

"I KNEW IT!" Cynthia slaps him with a pillow, and he jolts up so suddenly that his head hits the wall. Cyrus looks so lost and overwhelmed that she strikes him again. "You snored! And I have proof!"

"Fine, fine!" Cyrus puts up his hands. "But… no one told me that I have this problem…"

"It's because you lock yourself up in your room—"

"My office."

"Whatever, snorer!" Cynthia marches back to the bed. "These earplugs are 100% Cyrus-proof. You're not waking me up with your earth-shattering snoring anytime soon!"

Cyrus grumbles as he turns away. He hugs his knees to his chest and buries his reddened face into the towel. How embarrassing. Was he really that distracting at night? Does he really sound like a Mamoswine?

He sits up. "Champion Cynthia, how would you accurately describe my…"

"Chhkt…"

Oh no she didn't. Cyrus covers his ears, but it's still so loud. "Just because people call you the Champion doesn't exclude you from being a hypocrite…" Her snoring drowns out his griping. He stands up, steps over the duct tape, brandishing his towel like a seven-foot long katana… 

And then he just gives up and curls back into the towel's flimsy protection. Alas, Cyrus passes out as soon as he closes his eyes, and soon the room fills with the sounds of a hibernating Mamoswine and screaming lawnmowers.


End file.
